Once in a Blue Moon

|Une|

The bitter winter Atlanta air was howling, threatening the city with it's first snow of the season. Atlanta Dance Theater's holiday show was in full swing, cars lining the road to see the exquisite ballerinas perform. Music from "The Nutcracker" spilled into the street, starting off slow and light. The stars were twinkling, the telephone lines were laced with glowing Christmas lights, and a childlike drawing of Frosty the snowman was tacked to the pole. The air quickened the pace, ripping the drawing off and carrying it into the night.

    The thin paper tossed and flew around the building, thrashing in the wind like it was fighting it's fate. Soon enough, the once secure drawing set free landed gently on the back of a man laying face down in the ground. The paper quickly started to become wet and red, drenched in blood from the gaping shotgun inflected wound in the man's back. A few feet from the near lifeless body was a gold encrusted rolex. A large foot slammed down and crushed it. The killer looked around the parking lot that would soon be roped off with caution tape. Twelve bodies, all with shots to the back and forehead, decorated the pavement. He reloaded the gun and cocked it. As the shell hit the floor, he made eye contact with her.

    Dressed in a baby blue leotard, a glittering tiara adorning her smooth chestnut hair, and a satiny sparkling light blue tutu, Delilah stared at him. Like a leaky faucet, tears dripped down her round cheeks. The only sound that cracked the silence was the wind's low whistle, and Delilah's ragged breaths. He said nothing, feeling no sympathy. She fell in love with the wrong man, and now she had to pay the price in full.

     He had an inkling the girl was innocent, but an inkling wasn't enough. The tears stained her face and fell unsteadily off the corners of her full lips. Her throat was red and her eye was swollen from when she fought for her life and her love earlier. Her hands had become dirty and her soul stained that night, as she had taken her first life.

      While the people she loved bled out around her, she shook her head back and forth quickly, breaking the trance like stare she and the gunman shared. "No," she yelled, voice hoarse and filled with despair. "Please, don't. I'm...I'm-" She reached her hand out and stepped forward right as the gun went off.

BOOM!

Headshot.

⏸ Fucked up ain't it? I know, I know. Wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it for myself. This shouldn't have happened. But wanna know what someone told me a long time ago?

"Life ain't about what will, or can, or should...it's about right now. And what the fuck are you gonna do with right now?"

⏮Back to the beginning...so y'all can see how shit got this terrible.

....
"So you just refuse to pay attention in my class, don't you? Mhm. I know girls like you. While you pretend to be so smart and high and mighty, all you do is run around here with your whorish friends and try to appear cute for these boys." Ms. Clarissa Drew-James hissed, placing her hands on her desk and leaning in. She licked her thin lips and smiled a smile that held no happiness. "But I've got a secret for you. There's nothing cute about you. You're a mean, rude, nasty little bitch, destined to be nothing more than a baby mama."

Yeah I almost forgot about this bitch. Ms. James. The only thing nastier than her attitude was the fishy pussy she always had in my face when she stopped by my desk.

Delilah stared at her teacher, bored. "Just like you, right Ms. James?" She uncrossed her legs and smirked. "The only difference between me and you is, I wouldn't be driving that tired ass Volkswagen." Delilah stood up and jingled the keys to her 2017 Audi and whispered, "I'm already out-doing you," just as her Mother walked in the office.